The Disciple's Doctrine
by musicallymarked
Summary: Two of the Twelfth's own become targets, but a greater purpose lies in the crosshairs - destroying Richard Castle's life by eliminating what he loves the most. An AU re-telling of episode 6X09 'Disciple'. Includes the death of a major character, as well as an alternate ending for those happier-inclined among us.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: (11/12/13) It's been a good 5 years since I've dabbled into the fiction world. I write news for a living, dealing in hard facts, but this wouldn't leave me alone after seeing the promo for 'Disciple' (6X09). This is based on a couple of things from the promo - Castle appearing to be choking someone, and Beckett's terrified look in the loft, as well as the knowledge that Stana Katic missed some filming days due to promotional obligations for 'CBGB'._

_Obviously, spoilers abound for Season 6 thus far. As well as for 6X09 in the broadest sense that we've seen the promo. Anything else I happen to get right is purely coincidence, though I will be very impressed with myself._

_Author's Note: (11/17/13) Now that the episode has aired (in Canada, at least) I will inform any new readers that this story is strictly AU. Some things are similar, as gathered from spoilers, other things (such as the location of the takedown/the manner in which it happens) are coincidence (go me!)._

_As a final word, I don't own Castle. If I did, I'd have paid off my student loans by now._

* * *

She's jolted awake by the silence - her heart lodged somewhere in her throat as her brain struggles to distinguish the twisted dream from her current reality.

Kate feels her heart thundering away in her chest, the rapid intake of air as her body fights off the lingering images of Castle's body swinging in the fall breeze rolling in off the Hudson River.

It had been how they'd found Lanie, or at least the cosmetically altered version. A doppleganger who resembled her best friend in such a way that she'd had to tamp down on the urge to scream, that had required Castle to shoulder her into the warm width of his chest while the officers and technicians from the Crime Scene Unit had tactfully looked the other way as she fought off tears and a very real panic attack.

She'd had to help Ryan and Castle physically restrain Esposito. Even Pearlmutter had been noticeably rattled, and the feeling hadn't gone away once officers had confirmed that Dr. Parrish was safe in her apartment and there was no way the body belonged to her.

That had been almost 48 hours ago, hours in which leads had gone cold and the team remained as equally baffled as they were emotionally shaken.

It had been the realization that they were at a dead end that had prompted Kate, aided by the 'not up for discussion' lecture from Captain Gates, to turn the team loose. Gates had put eyes on all of them, even promised an officer would routinely check up on Alexis, declaring that she would not let some bastard go after one of her own.

Kate sat up slowly, pushing away the thick duvet cover with one hand as she rubbed away the grit from her eyes.

Still, her body remained alert, tensed for some unknown mystery that had pulled her from sleep. Was it the dream? Maybe the quietness of the loft?

The realization hits her so quickly that she swears her heart skips a beat, its regular rhythm stuttering back to life as Kate curses herself for being so slow to notice. In her year of staying regularly at Castle's loft it has never been silent. Without fail, voices, music, even the steady typing of computer keys would all fill the space.

And now there is nothing, not even the drip of a faucet.

Her breath is shallow, Kate easing from the warmth of the blankets and the comfort of the mattress to creep towards the closet and the safe where she stores her gun.

The reassurance that fills her once the alarm has disengaged and the cold metal is weighing down her right hand should probably bother her, but all she feels is the knowledge that, no matter what, she will protect herself as well as Castle and Martha.

Because something is wrong. Undeniably and completely wrong.

* * *

She's halfway to Castle's office before she remembers her phone - cutting a sharp right back to the bedside table to retrieve it and flip the switch to silent the device. She traps the white object against the waist band of her leggings for a lack of pockets, continuing her trek back through the bedroom door and into the office.

It's empty, which comes as neither a surprise or a relief, but the late evening light does little to help her view through the open bookshelves into the living space beyond.

She can hear the sound of cars and sirens on the streets below, their low whine the only sound - somehow the sirens make it worse, Kate's heart beating a steady wave of fear in what could have happened to Castle or his mother.

Because she's never been in the loft alone. She's never heard such complete silence and its _terrifying _in its completeness.

The clock perched on one of the shelves reads 7:47, providing her with the knowledge of a nearly three hour nap but she quickly brushes it aside, aware that three hours is plenty of time for things to go to hell and back.

And, with that in mind, Kate tamps down on her fear, shoving aside the worried girlfriend and placing on her Detective armor. Instead of emotion she will deal in facts, she will find the solution, she will solve the problem.

She can fall apart later.

Sucking in a deep breath, she presses her back against the narrow edge of the bookcase, one hand poised over the door handle while she peers through the shelves for any sign of movement. And its impossible to tell, the dark closing off everything but the single lamp that Castle leaves on in the foyer.

So she takes her chances, pulling the door open and diving through before she has a chance to think or anyone on the other side has a chance to notice her.

Kate had been expecting something, a gasp of surprise, the glint of a weapon, the weight of a body tackling her to the floor.

But she finds nothing, she sees nothing. The loft as empty and as silent as when she woke.

Her gun stays in her hand, pointed up in the air as she lightly walks over the floor to check the coat closet and the bathroom - breathing a little easier as they both turn up empty. The laundry and the upstairs are all that remain, and she braces herself, her gun moving to point towards the floor as she crosses to the kitchen and shoulders into the laundry door.

She notices the paper first, fluttering on the kitchen counter beside her favorite coffee mug as the air vent kicks on - the paper is yellow, the sort that Castle uses to scribble on when typing on his computer just doesn't do it.

She checks the laundry anyway, only turning her back on the open door when she knows its cleared but making no qualms about her need to read the note.

For the moment, its her lifeline.

_Kate,_

_Gone to pick up food. Didn't want to wake you. You needed sleep. Be back soon_

_- R_

Her lips form a string of curses then, the words coming hot and fast as the adrenaline from her abrupt wake up call and trek across the loft spikes and leaves her drained. Leave it to Castle to scare her with something as simple and as innocent as take out.

The stupid, careless and completely wonderful fool.

She's going to kill him when he gets back. Kill him and then bring him back to life just to kiss him and then kill him again.

Those thoughts keep her occupied as she strolls back through the loft, reentering the closet to secure her gun in the safe as her phone vibrates.

"Beckett," she answers automatically, never giving the screen a glance. Anyone she talks to regularly is used to her last name as her automatic greeting.

The connection is bad, full of static, and her brow furrows. It's possible a uniform is calling to page her to a crime scene, though it certainly isn't their job - that falls to dispatch.

"Hello?" she tries again, stepping from the closet in the hope of better reception as she strolls towards the office to take up residence beside the window.

Kate never makes it that far, her blood turning to ice at the sight of the figure looming in the doorway from the office to the living area.

"Detective," the voice greets her, the smile on his face one of complete satisfaction, "I think its time we get to know one another a little better."


	2. Chapter 2

_Authors Note: So, I just started this last night and I'm already three chapters in. I'll be honest and tell you that I don't know how many this will take, just that its going to encompass the length of the episode and the idea I have in my head. A warning that this chapter includes an injury and mention of blood, but its nothing graphic. _

_Obviously, spoilers for 6X09 'Disciple' included - including the return of a recurring character. No idea if the character will physically be on the show, but (s)he is in the story. _

* * *

In hindsight, delivery had probably been the better option.

He had left the loft with a certain amount of guilt, an anxious ball of worry and anxiety clawing in his stomach at the idea of leaving Kate alone.

But Castle hadn't wanted to wake her, well aware that sleep had been increasingly hard to come by in the aftermath of the crime scene and the body that hadn't, miraculously, belonged to Lanie.

If he'd been the guessing sort, it was likely that the only reason she'd even slept was that her body couldn't run any longer without it.

Kate hadn't been the only one with nightmares, though. He'd lost count of the times that his mind had conjured visions of her, or Alexis, or his mother or both Ryan and Esposito in the same position as Lanie.

And, sometimes, he hadn't even been asleep. On cases like this one, his overactive imagination was truly a curse and his worst fears displayed almost constantly on a loop.

He'd only left the loft because the walls had felt as if they were closing in, his mind needed a dose of fresh (as it ever got in Manhattan) air and the short three block walk providing a chance to clear his head.

So Castle had left a note, mentally promising a quick return. In fact, it was likely that Kate would never even know he'd stepped out.

But that'd been 40 minutes ago, as the late dinner crowd had invaded the Chinese restaurant they so often ordered from. The owner, Mr. Chung, had apologized profusely for the uncharacteristically long wait, waiving the cost of the meal though he had still tucked the money, plus a generous tip, into the jar in front of the register on his exit.

There were two more stops on the way home, pausing at a newsstand for a magazine - bridal, because he wanted something for Kate to smile about - and latest edition of The New Yorker, and into the bodega that sat opposite for a few basic supplies.

It would bother him later, how he was standing in the aisle trying to choose a cereal while Kate crept through his loft with her gun drawn. That he'd been so involved in something so mundane while his fiancé had been terrified for his own safety.

But life has a way of sneaking up on you, the danger remaining hidden in the shadows until it is ready to pounce - until it takes all of your careful plans and tosses them aside.

Because while he, Richard Castle, was buying milk, Kate Beckett was fighting for her life.

* * *

He had jumped before she could think of an attack plan, crossing the room in four quick strides with the glint of a knife catching from the flicker of lights outside the window.

She moved instinctively, placing the desk between herself and the attacker, skidding around the far edge to pick up the magnifying glass and its metal stand from the edge of the desk for something to defend herself with.

"What do you want, Tyson," Kate asked, wielding the piece in front of her body as he advanced and she backtracked towards the open door. She was studiously ignoring the fact that he was supposed to be dead, that Castle's belief of his continued existence on Earth had been correct. Not because she didn't believe it - he was standing right in front of her, and it was impossible to deny - but because her mind couldn't process it.

He had a knife. He had threatened to kill her before. He had likely killed the woman whom had her face altered into Lanie's.

"Nothing in particular," was the slow answer, the same smug smile on his face as he twisted the knife back and forth in his hand, "Just sending your boyfriend a message. He and I have some unfinished business."

And then he lunged, Kate kicking out her leg to jab him in the ribs as she hurled the metal stand against Tyson's shoulder. It was enough to send him to his knees, a groan of pain coming out of his mouth as she backed away, intent on getting through the front door before calling for help.

It was the broad chest of another body that stopped her, her back connecting against muscle and bone before her feet left the ground, and Kate had the brief sensation of her body floating on air.

It lasted seconds, her breath escaping her body in a whoosh - every millimeter of air expelled from her lungs as her back smacked against the polished wood.

"Probably should have warned you, I didn't come alone," Tyson's voice called as she fought to simultaneously suck air into her lungs and focus her vision on the face looming over her.

The prick of the needle against her neck was quick, so light of a touch that she almost could have imagined it, but the effect was immediate. Her body began to still, drowsiness began to set in, and her vision began to cloud, aided by the drug rather than the shock of her body against the floor.

She could feel a body, the same body, next to her, sense the satisfaction of a job well done and she wanted to scream - to kick and bite and slap and fight. Like hell she was going down like this, she'd survived a sniper, a bomb, drowning, almost freezing to death.

Kate wasn't going to die at the hands of Jerry Tyson and whoever he'd recruited as his accomplice.

But she was aware that her body was no longer under her control, the drug seeping into her bloodstream rendering her useless even as her mind raged.

She choked on a name - the syllables of 'Castle' no use at the soft whisper she'd managed, though the chuckle told her that at least one of her attackers had heard.

"Move aside," Tyson barked, taking up rank beside her as she continued to struggle against the effects of the needle. Drugged as she was, Kate didn't feel the strike of the knife handle against her head, or the stickiness of the blood as it dug into her arm. The stain spreading against the edge of the white rug also went unnoticed, though she could guess its intention.

They wanted Castle to know.

Was she crying? It was hard to tell as her body continued its slow drag into the drug induced fog. It felt like she should be, her throat clogged up as Tyson waved her phone over her body with another grin.

The click of several photos being taken accompanied her into unconsciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: First off, my apologies for the mishap with Chapter 2. Somehow Chapter 1 was posted twice, and then the right chapter went up without all the proper formatting. This is as far as I have written after I began the initial idea, but my goal is to have the whole thing finished before Sunday. I'd like my version to be wrapped up before we all watch the real thing._

_Also, thanks for the reviews/follows. They are very nice to read/see! As usual, spoilers for episode 6X09 'Disciple', as pulled from the promo and interviews with Tamala Jones and Andrew Marlowe. Anything that proves the same or similar outside of those is merely coincidence as this is all, most definitely, a figment of my imagination. _

* * *

It was a mark of having too much stuff when you had to drop half your purchases in order to unlock the door.

Laden down with bags as he was, Rick did stop, putting down the dinner order and the magazines to free one hand and turn the key to his front door.

It swung open easily, and he heaved out a sigh, pleased that the room looked just as he had left it. Apparently his mission had been a success - he'd left, gotten dinner and managed to return without Kate having noticed.

His keys went into the bowl beside the door, a habit picked up from Kate, and he scooped up the shopping bags. With a slight kick backwards, he heard rather than saw the door drift closed behind him as he moved to deposit everything on the kitchen counter.

The smell was the first thing he noticed, minutes later, the sharp metallic tang of blood registering as he strolled from the counter towards the sofa, two plates of food in his hands.

The phone was next, the bright blue of the screen and the generic ringtone for unknown callers cutting through the space.

Kate's phone. A photo of Kate that he'd never seen set as her wallpaper. Her phone in a pool of blood.

"Beckett!" The name ripped out of him in a scream, every nerve ending firing as the rush of panic and terror filled his body, those emotions replacing his blood, his bones, maybe even his very soul as he dropped the plates, the smashing of china the only sound as he passed the blood and ran through the office into the bedroom, praying that Kate was still curled in bed and it'd been some horrible hallucination.

The bed was empty, along with the bathroom and the closet, as the phone sounded again from the other room to hammer the point that she wasn't here to answer it.

He ignored the ringing, unable to face the reality that the facts presented as he sprinted up the stairs and checked every additional room, even doubling back into Alexis' room - variations of Kate, Beckett and multiple swears on his lips as his search proved worthless.

Collapsing in the kitchen with another plea of 'Kate' echoing on the tiles as the phone sprang to life again. Castle's own was in his hand, finger poised over the screen to dial for help when he jerked forward and headed towards the sticky pool of blood and technology.

Whatever training had been hammered into him by the 12th about touching evidence was ignored, though he found himself shivering as his fingers trailed into the blood when he picked up the phone. His heart was racing, tears building in his eyes as he swiped a finger across the screen to accept the call.

"Castle," he croaked, his breathing coming in short gasps as he lost the battle on his emotions. He was unable to think, unable to do anything but sit in blind terror on the floor in his home until the answers came. Until someone, anyone, could help him make sense of the scene in front of him.

"I was looking for Detective Beckett," the voice said, the cadence enough to tell him this wasn't a civilian, "We've had a body drop, and she's the next one on call."

"I…she….." the words lodged in his throat, and Rick paused, the emotion again surging forward to consume him as he fought the urge to moan in pain, "Something has happened. I think she's been attacked. I need….there's blood and….her phone and….Esposito and Ryan. They need to come."

* * *

In the early hours of the morning, the 12th Precinct was quiet. Or maybe it was the knowledge of one of their own being unaccounted for that brought on the silence. Either way, it was an atmosphere that Rick hadn't seen since the days following the death of Roy Montgomery.

It was one he never hoped to experience again.

Esposito had taken the call to the loft, arriving with three officers and the Crime Scene Unit who quickly went to work while he answered questions and gave a statement.

Yes, Kate had been there when he left. No, he didn't know of anyone coming to visit. Of _course_ there were people who wanted her dead.

Samples had been taken of the blood, the rug had been rolled up for further testing, but they all knew the results would come back - that they would declare the blood to be Kate's.

The photos saved to her phone had been all the confirmation he and Esposito had needed. There were eight of them, all showing Kate lying on the floor, blood spread across the rug from the knife that held center stage in the fourth photo. It was a small comfort that she only appeared to be awake in one of them, her glassy eyes the likely result of a whatever CSU could determine had once filled the syringe they'd discovered in the sweep of the room.

Those photos were now plastered on the murder board, stretching across the top in some unimaginable gallery. It was killing him to keep staring, to see how the attacker had succeeded, to know that she'd been unable to fight while he'd been buying a damn box of cereal.

"Castle," Ryan's voice lured Castle from his internal war, the detective's eyes weighed down with a combination of worry, exhaustion and sadness that he was sure would be reflected in his own, "The Captain wants to speak to you…." he continued, tilting his head towards the conference room where Esposito, and Captain Gates were waiting.

He rose automatically, his body carrying out the command even as his mind stayed attached to the photos, to the loft, to Kate. Was there such a thing as sleepwalking when you were wide awake? Because his body continued to function, he continued to breathe and speak and move even while his mind and his heart seemed to be incapable of anything but all encompassing fear.

Still, he sat, taking the seat indicated to him by Ryan. He nodded as Gates spoke directly to him, confirming the results of the DNA test on the blood to be that of Kate. Other tests were still pending results, but they were hopeful they would find something to point towards the attacker - perhaps on the needle. And then he lost track, visions of Kate bleeding on the floor, so afraid as her body fell under the power of the injection and left her unable to defend herself.

He must have groaned, or jerked or given some other indication that he had stopped listening because she had stopped talking. But the silence didn't last, as Ryan's voice cut in. "Castle, there's something else you should know," he offered lightly, the tone of his voice enough of a clue about what was to come.

But Castle jerked his head up quickly, taking in the stunned expression on Esposito and the regretful one of Ryan, as his heart rate kicked into overdrive and his throat became uncomfortably dry. "What…." he ground out, his hands tightening against the arm rests of his chair while his body flexed in terror.

"The crime scene that Detective Beckett was being paged too…" Gates paused, pressing her lips together as she assessed her audience, "….the body was of a man who bears a striking resemblance to Detective Esposito," she added gently, two evidence bags appearing in her hands, "These were also found with the body, stuffed into the coat pockets."

They were photos, one featuring the five members of their team, along with Jenny, as they stood outside The Old Haunt. They were all grinning widely, watching as Kate gestured with her left hand while the right remained firmly clasped in his own. She looked radiant with her bright smile, and the way her eyes sparkled as she got caught up in the story - her engagement ring also on full display to paint the complete picture of how her life was going. But her happiness in the photo didn't mask the red circle drawn around her head.

When compared to the second photo - this one of Lanie and Espo as they hailed a cab outside the morgue - the message was clear. Unlike the circle around Kate, both of their faces were covered with a scarlet X.

"She's the target," he whispered, his eyes lifting from the photos to take in the expressions of the others at the table.

"We believe so, Mr. Castle," Gates said, "Judging from the evidence before us, we believe this to be the work of a man who has been planning this attack on Detective Beckett for quite some time."


	4. Chapter 4

_Authors Note: Bit of a change, the initial story (being the one that encompasses the episode) will be six or seven chapters. But I have two additional scenes that I'm going to write that will follow after the conclusion. I'll post them to this story, as well, just to keep things all neat and clean._

Those extra chapters also come with a twist. So prepare yourself, or something. As a location note - native (or long-time) New Yorkers generally refer to the Avenue of the Americas by its original name - Sixth Avenue. So, in my eyes, it isn't a mistake.

As usual, spoilers for the promo for episode 6X09 'Disciple' as well as interviews by Tamala Jones and Andrew Marlowe. In no way do I believe this to be what will happen on the show, though I'd be seriously impressed if it did.

* * *

The evidence had come together slowly, pieces of the puzzle clicking into place with a financial statement and phone records painting the broader picture that, until now, had been muddled across two dead bodies and three crime scenes.

The two victims had a connection - payments made into bank accounts that coincided with cosmetic procedures each had undergone. Calls to and from burner phones, never lasting more than five minutes.

Ryan had partnered with Sully, running down the offshore accounts for the deposits with the assistance of the FBI while Esposito had paired with Karpowski, scouring what information they had to try and catch a lead on Kate's whereabouts.

And Castle? He had sat in his usual chair, lost in his own thoughts as the bullpen hovered around him.

It could have been minutes, or hours before he stirred, jumping to life as Esposito's voice cut across the sound of a half-dozen officers and detectives assembled, "We've got something!"

The canvas of Castle's block had turned up three witnesses, two teenagers that lived in the building beside his own and the deli owner on the opposing block - they had all recalled a dark blue SUV illegally parked in the alley between the two buildings, the deli owner making a note because it had prevented a delivery truck from parking to deliver packages and had instead taken up valuable street space at his storefront.

"The guy said he called traffic patrol but, by the time they arrived, the SUV was gone. He did write down the plate number, but it came back as bogus - no plate with that combination in New York state," Esposito explained, "Still, we have a specific make and model, and that's being ran down as we speak."

'Traffic cameras being pulled as well - the teenagers caught sight of the car as it backed out of the alley and headed north towards 6th Avenue. They also gave a description of the driver - though we aren't sure how much good it will do with a moving vehicle and it being dark," he continued, his training leaving him careful not to make too many promises that couldn't be kept.

* * *

The morgue was almost more than Lanie could bear, the knowledge of two bodies that so closely resembled herself and Javier encased within its walls alternately sending her spinning between fury and stone cold terror.

The fury was currently winning, as she sat on her stool and continued with her work, processing every test and filing away every detail she could discover in the limited evidence collected at Castle's loft.

It was the only thing she had done in days that had made her feel useful, though she had provided key evidence to Kate as the first body, her double, had dropped.

But it'd all gone so wrong so quickly, and she hadn't slept soundly since. There was a part of her that was convinced she never would again.

"Lanie, Espo said you had something for us," Kevin Ryan spoke as he pushed through the double doors, "Lay it on me."

She wash't surprised that Javier hadn't made the trip, he'd only glanced at the body that wore his face, anger flaring in his eyes. He hadn't stayed long after that, giving a shake of his head when she had tried to explain all the ways that they weren't similar.

"Yeah," she stuttered, shaking her own head to clear away the image of Javi's angry scowl as she turned towards Kevin, "CSU did the run down on all the fibers, but the blood and the syringe came to me. The blood, as you know, belongs to our girl and the skin cells left on the needle prove that she was injected with it."

"I tried to pull prints off the plunger and the handle, came away with a few partials, but none of them match anything in our system. The Feds have them now, and they will run them as well," she continued, recognizing her voice as it entered the tone where she was merely reciting facts as her brain knew them. There was no room for emotion - not until she had deposited every bit of information.

"The results of the drug in the syringe also popped, it's not anything you can buy over the counter or on the black market. This stuff was cooked up by someone who has a background in chemistry and pharmacy. Completely designer, laced with sodium pentothal to put her under, a cocktail of pain relievers and a dash of cloinidine - basically, they wanted to knock her out for a long time, and keep her quiet while she went under," Lanie said.

"So you think….." Kevin said, halting for a moment while he took a deep breath to steel himself for the question, "…you think they are going to hurt her - that maybe they already had?"

"I don't know that," she answered quickly, reaching out a hand to lightly touch his arm, "Going by the amount of blood on the floor, I'd say no but there are other ways to injure someone that have nothing to do with blood," Lanie said quietly, the threat of tears very real in her eyes as she imagined all the other things they could have done to hurt her best friend.

"Yeah…." he breathed, sucking in a long breath while hanging his head. The slight tremble in Kevin's shoulders wasn't missed, but Lanie didn't comment on it either, instead snapping the latex gloves off her hands and strolling to the sink to wash them.

He had pieced himself back together by the time she had finished, his detective mask back in place though Lanie could still see the cracks in the foundation.

"…..CSU found a fibers and hair on the rug, nothing conclusive enough to tell them if they are from the attacker or Castle's family. They've asked for samples from all of them, so a more decisive report should come in a couple hours," she added, passing two file folders across the distance as Kevin headed towards the door.

"Hey, don't tell Castle what I said," she added at the last second, a heavy sigh following the words.

"Don't worry, Lanie. I won't," Kevin said, shouldering his way through the doors and leaving her alone.

* * *

It was remarkable how easily he'd convinced them to fold. The thing about manipulation was that you had to find people who were lonely - someone who didn't quite fit in, had few or no friends but craved to be noticed, adored, revered.

The search for the two had taken months, Tyson had discarded countless possibilities along the way. He'd changed his own name, moved to California, and built up a steady flow of money. Of course it was obsessive, he was well aware that his fixation on Richard Castle and his girlfriend detective was the type of thing that could get you caught but the reward of breaking the smug bastard almost seemed worth it.

The Detective - Katherine Becket, inspiration for Nikki Heart and newly minted fiancé. It was almost poetic in the timing, having snatched her from the man's own home (and really, had he not learned to upgrade a security system?) just as they had committed their lives to one another. Had they set a wedding date? Did they have plans regarding children or adopting a dog?

He didn't know, and he only cared in the sense of devastation it'd leave behind when she was dead and the writer was left with nothing.

Not that he cared all that much about the writer, either. It was more the thrill of besting someone who had so nearly gotten him. The ability to plan, plot and execute with the swiftness and perfection that left a level of mystery and terror in its seeming unpredictability.

He'd left her on the floor, the hard concrete offering no moderation of comfort or warmth. It was now about suffering, about breaking her and then displaying it. The rush of adrenaline at the mere idea had captivated him - to know that he would be the one to put an end to the 'extraordinary' KB and her alter ego.

"Wake up, Detective," he spoke, the steel toe of his boot connecting with the bottom of her bare foot, "You and I have some things to do."

* * *

She liked to believe that she had a high tolerance for pain.

Through it all she hadn't screamed, had barely made so much as a whimper as the knife had scratched over her skin. The cuts were all shallow, mostly along her arms or her feet, though there were a few also dripping blood down her legs.

It was a strange sort of game, the kind that told Kate she wasn't here to make noise. He could have done things that were much worse, could have pushed her until she had screamed, though there was no scenario that would make her beg him to stop. No, she was here as bait, something to lure Castle into whatever the larger plot happened to be.

Tyson had been gone for some time, leaving her chained to a metal pipe that snaked across the walls and the ceiling. It was clear that she was in a warehouse, somewhere close to the water judging by the sounds from the open windows. The sound of waves, of boats speeding by along with the distant honk of car horns and the scream of sirens from somewhere to her left told her she was likely on the West Side, her knowledge of the major roadways that snaked around the city giving her a vague reference point.

But it didn't help much. She had tried boosting herself to the window by standing on the pipes though the chain threaded through the cuffs prevented her from being able to gain enough height or leverage to scale the wall. A search of the room had revealed nothing sharp or small enough to pick the lock of the cuffs.

When that had failed, she'd yelled for help until her voice had gone hoarse. No one had come to her rescue, not that she had expected they would.

Thoroughly tapped - that was how Castle would put it, she thought to herself, a reminder of their night handcuffed together in that basement springing to her mind as a steady gust of wind rattled the windows and she shivered slightly.

Her arm was beginning to throb again, the deep cut now crusted over with dried blood. She didn't know how much blood she had lost, but the combination of the injury, the drug still lingering in her system and both the lack of food and water were leaving her a little weak on her feet - she'd steadily ignored the feeling while Tyson had been pricking her with the blade, unwilling to give into anything that would give him the satisfaction of seeing her broken down.

But she was weak, and cold, and the desire to curl up and sleep was overwhelming. But Kate was stubborn, and she refused to let herself be caught unaware whenever Tyson came back.

He had gotten the advantage on her once, it wouldn't be happening again.


	5. Chapter 5

_Authors Note: And here is Chapter 5 of what will be a 7 chapter story. Warning that there are a couple minorly violent passages between Beckett and her attacker, though it is nothing graphic. As usual, spoilers for episode 6X09 'Disciple' based on the promo video and interviews from Tamala Jones and Andrew Marlowe. I don't expect this to be how Monday's episode goes down, this is all a work of fiction. _

* * *

The echo of metal crashing the floor temporarily silenced the bullpen - officers and detectives alike turning with wide eyes and open mouths towards the conference room and the open blinds.

The internal reactions varied, depending on how much or how little the person liked Richard Castle. Hell, some of them didn't particularly like Kate Beckett, but they respected her. She was a good cop, one of the best. And the two of them together - for the annoying quirks and constant flirting - they made a good team.

The sight of the writer, bent at the knees with his hands hiding his face from all of them was certainly a painful one and the muffled sounds leaking through the walls were that of a wounded animal.

Whatever had happened, whatever Captain Gates had just shared - it was huge.

* * *

"Mr. Castle, I'm very sorry," she spoke again, her posture and tone showing a vulnerableness that Victoria Gates had yet to put on display for the writer and, with incredible rarity for her charges.

The team at work on the cases had combined upon the discovery of the photos at the second crime scene, creating one large task force that's primary function was now to locate Detective Beckett and the man who had taken her. The team had ran down every lead, processing time and legal orders being handed down quickly when it was one of their own at stake.

But it didn't change the fact that, in 20 minutes, Beckett would be missing for 24 hours.

They all knew what happened to cases that stretched that long, and their latest lead - the SUV had been spotted near Battery Park - had turned up with nothing but a bleached out interior clear of prints, fibers, and any other trace evidence.

But the note had been lying on the dashboard, a burner cell phone containing more photos and one 30 second video - taken from the interior of the car.

The video had caused the crash, the chair he had been perched on toppling over along with several piles of paperwork and a metal figurine from her desk - Castle's body slumping to the floor as his shoulder shook and a few broken sobs escaped his mouth.

Jerry Tyson's face still glared at them from her computer screen, the unconscious shape of Detective Beckett lying in the backseat, blood matting her t-shirt as the second victim, the one so similar to Esposito, sat next to her.

"Got your girl. We needed some time together - don't wait up," he had spoken, the camera briefly zooming in on his passenger before the video went dark.

The note had been an address and a time - the location being the same hotel which Tyson had initially been placed for his safety. The time was set for 12:30 a.m. - five hours from now.

Beckett's partner still hadn't moved from his kneeling pose on the floor, though the tears had stopped and he seemed to be slowly regaining control of his emotions. It was a tentative connection, but enough for her to dive back in.

"We are sending a team out to the location, scout the place and see if we can get early eyes on if Tyson is in the building already. If he is? We'll get him. If he isn't, we'll get him when he shows up. And we will make him talk, we're going to find Detective Beckett," she assured him, her voice gaining traction and steel in its conviction and determination while she talked.

"I…don't…." Castle stuttered out the words, his head giving a vigorous shake as he stood, "He wants me," he spoke, quiet acceptance coloring his voice, "Ka…Beckett is only in the crosshairs. This is about me - I figured out who he was, I shot him last year. This is revenge. I almost robbed him of his identity, the need to kill, and now he wants to take away something I love. He has history with Beckett, with this team. It's all a message to tell me what he will do unless I play his game."

"So you want to go to the scene," she stated, already aware of the answer.

"I have to go - if I'm not there, Tyson won't show. We'll be left with nothing," Castle answered a hint of panic at being denied in his voice.

"Then go ahead - Ryan and Esposito will be along with you," she agreed, lightly patting him on the arm before flipping off her computer screen.

* * *

The temperature had steadily cooled off, leaving Kate curling her torso towards her legs to use her body heat at an attempt to ward off the shivering. She'd even fallen into a nap, jolting awake with a start at the horn of a passing tugboat.

That had been roughly an hour before she heard the scrap of a door at the opposite end of the warehouse, its opening providing a glimpse of the Hoboken skyline, the water and dock that stretched between them as Tyson stepped through the door - the echo of a bolt sliding into place following the slam of the metal door.

"Don't worry, Beckett. Your boy will be here soon, I left him a nice little clue," Tyson drawled, steady steps leading him directly towards her. His hands were free, no knife or other weapon being drawn out to cause more pain though his concept of personal space seemed to have evaporated as he crouched in front of her and leaned in.

"The thing is, though, you won't be alive when he gets here - I just thought I'd be nice and let you know he'll show up to find you," he shrugged, one hand snaking around the chain and jerking it upward to pull her to her feet.

She tried to resist, tensing her muscles and pressing her heels to the floor, feeling the delicate skin across both of them and all ten toes ripping as the force of gravity pulled her upright, the whiplash enough from the jolt throwing her head forward and making her wince.

"Now, Detective., It's time for a little fun," he said, dodging the kick she aimed towards him easily as the chain slithered free of the pipe and Tyson gave it another jerk, leading her to the middle of the room.

Kate again tried to fight him off, using her legs to nail two jabs to his rips. And while he stumbled, the chain remained in his hands, dragging her across the room. Her third attempt was harder, Tyson's breath leaving him in a wheeze before he snarled in frustration, raising one fist to connect it directly against her jaw.

It was enough to make her stumble, a groan coming out other mouth as her vision went white, the pain radiating from her jaw across her entire face and into her skull as her eyes watered. But Kate stayed on her feet, swaying slightly as he dropped several more punches against her body, ending with several jabs to her injured arm that left her screaming and in enough pain to almost black out.

The pain was all she could feel for a while, though she was aware that her arms were being lifted above her head and could feel the sensation of her feet leaving the floor. The metallic clink of the chain and Tyson's ragged breathing filled the space, the click of two heavy locks sliding into place above her head filling her with a level of fear that she had, until now, kept carefully controlled.

But she knew this was it - her position mimicking that of how the body of Pam Hodges, Lanie's double, had been suspended. That, like everything else, Tyson was leaving her in the position of the other murder to leave another message.

If Kate stretched her toes she could just touch the ground to give herself some support though it made every muscle in her legs and thighs protest. The weight of the chain already put pressure on her arms and shoulders, the pain still slicing in hot licks across her skin and muscle as she sucked in lungfuls of air to prevent herself from sobbing.

Her breath escaped in a burst of air, the hose in his hand finally making sense as ice cold water seared her skin and immediately began to chill her to the bone. It could have lasted for minutes, or for seconds, she couldn't tell as the water soaked her clothes and her skin, long streams sneaking into her mouth and down her throat, leaving it on fire as she tried to expel the fluid from her lungs.

Then it was the knife, the blade slicing another shallow cut along her torso. It wasn't deep enough to hit organs, but it still hurt, Kate gritting her teeth against the pain as she tried to twist her body away while she hung suspended from the chain.

And then there was nothing, just the feel of Tyson's eyes on her as she shivered in the cold air and gasped for breath, her toes stretching to the floor to support some of her weight.

The smile on Tyson's face was lazy, one of satisfaction as he glanced at his watch, slowly withdrawing another syringe from the pocket of his coat. "I'm sure you want to know why. Why I came after you, why those two bodies look so much like Lanie Parrish and Javier Esposito…" he spoke quietly, pulling the cover off the needle and waving it beside her as she twisted away from him again.

"You are a pawn, Beckett. All three of you - taken and mutilated in the name of revenge. Your boyfriend tried to kill me, and he failed. He took my carefully built life and destroyed it, and provided me a challenge that no one else has even come close too. So its exciting for me, knowing that I'm the one who can destroy his life, that I'm the one who puts an end to Nikki Heat and Jameson Rook. That I'm the one ending your partnership," he continued, rocking back on his heels for a moment before the needle broke the skin on her neck and the fluid was pushed into her body.

"What better way to get his, and your, attention than by focusing on the two friends of yours who can't find a happy ending? The two who crashed and burned - just like his life will once you are dead," Tyson finished, flicking the needle onto the floor as he took several steps backwards, "Farewell, Katherine Beckett - I'll be sure to give my regards at your funeral."


	6. Chapter 6

_Authors Note: And here is Chapter 6. It's way longer than I intended, but I felt the initial stopping point didn't paint enough of the story. I'm hoping to post Chapter 7 later tonight or early tomorrow. I'd like to have this wrapped up before the show airs in Canada tomorrow night. _

_Thanks for reading/reviewing. I really appreciate it! As always, spoilers for episode 6X09 'Disciple', including the promo video and interviews from Tamala Jones and Andrew Marlowe, as well as one of the sneak peaks (a victims name, nothing else). _

* * *

Her hands had gone numb first - the edges of the cuffs digging into her skin each time she stretched her hands to wrap around the chain. Kate had rarely been so grateful for being in such good condition physically, her arm and core strength providing enough stability to pull herself upright and relieve the pressure on both her shoulders and ease the struggle to breath while her body waged a war with gravity.

But, eventually, her legs had also started to tingle, forcing her to slowly release a grip on the chain and instead stretch out her feet to find purchase against the ground.

Whatever drug she had been given, the progress it made through her body was slow. She'd had minutes of consciousness in Castle's loft - her vision had blurred almost immediately and she'd been unable to put up much of a fight as the drowsiness had crept in. This was different, as if she was experiencing the world from a long tunnel, her limbs felt heavy, like she was trying to move through molasses or syrup. Everything was disjointed and stuttered - and that was without the light chattering of her teeth as the room continued to cool, her clothes and skin in no hurry to dry and offer some warmth.

And then there were her other injuries - she was more than a bit concerned about the state her left arm would be in once she was rescued and her right side burned with fire each time she gathered enough strength and energy to pull a deep breath instead the shallow pants she could manage from moment to moment.

The thing was, when you were stuck hanging from a pipe and waiting for rescue, there was time to think. To reflect. And she had realized, regardless of the number of times she'd faced death before, Kate had never been given that particular gift. She had always faced it quietly, working towards saving herself, or Castle, or New York City, in a steady blaze until there was no more time. She had been so cold in the freezer that deep philosophical thoughts had been beyond her. And the bullet, well, it had hit her before she knew it had left the barrel of the rifle.

Her reflection after staring death down had always come while she was safe at home, it was then she'd had time to process and fall apart. Now she had nothing but silence, nothing but time as she alternated between gripping the chain and struggling to touch the floor.

It was the quiet acceptance in her mind that was the scariest facet of all. Not the increasing difficulty to draw a breath, not the strain and pull of her muscles, not even the coldness or the throb of her arm. Somewhere deep inside, a part of her had accepted that this could be it. That she would suffocate or freeze to death or have her heart stop from whatever she'd been injected with.

It was the first time she could remember that every inch of her soul hadn't been scratching and clawing for life. And it scared the hell out of her.

Groaning, Kate extended her fingers again, wrapping them around the chain as she bent her wrists against the cuffs. She could feel her skin splitting open, the beads of blood smearing against the metal while she gritted her teeth and tensed her muscles to pull herself upward, a small cry falling out of her mouth as her shoulders and arms were relieved of the agonizing pressure and she sucked in deep, lingering breaths.

Maybe she had accepted it because it seemed inevitable, that her quest for hard facts and logic told her that she couldn't possibly keep up this back and forth game forever.

It wasn't that she wanted to die - she had never wanted anything less in her life - but, maybe, that she would be leaving behind something worthwhile. That, if her life was to end in this way, that she would go knowing that everyone in her life knew how much she loved them.

Maybe it was because she no longer had unfinished business that brought her some resemblance of peace.

* * *

It had taken an hour to establish a perimeter around the motel, another thirty minutes to canvass not only the building but any directly adjacent. The result had been what they'd all expected - Tyson wasn't in the building.

But there were indicators that he had been. It was accepted unanimously that all the evidence had been planted - before and after photos of the two victims in their gradual morphs from themselves into Lanie and Esposito. Letters and emails from the two of them to Tyson, detailing the ways in which he had guided and manipulating them into becoming something 'better' than themselves. To focus on an individual who had been deemed successful and worthy.

It appeared that both victims had been stalking Lanie and Esposito. Photos of them individually and as a couple spread across the room. Pictures snapped on the street, entering or exiting work and crime scenes, in bars or restaurants. Photos with Ryan, photos with Kate and himself. It all created a portrait so disturbing that Castle had thought he'd throw up the few bites of food he'd managed to eat in the past 24 hours.

The team had retreated at 11:45, dissolving into the shadows while he waited inside the room, the photos seeming to mock him and how oblivious they all had been to the danger.

He had put the 'Writer' vest on only at the insistence of the team leader, ripping it from Ryan's hand when he had held it out. Now he found himself grateful for the extra padding. It reminded him of Kate, it made him feel safer.

The remaining minutes were their own special agony, time in which Castle could sit and contemplate the last 24 hours. he hadn't dwelt on it much, to encased in the ultimate goal of finding Kate and making sure she was safe, but in the quiet moments he could feel the shreds of his self control unravelling.

He had told Kate once that there weren't many things he wouldn't do to protect the people he loved, his words issued with so much certainty that he felt it in his bones. Castle didn't like to think himself a man capable of murder but, in the height of Alexis' kidnapping, he had discovered that to not be the case. He was _very_ capable of murder, perhaps even more so than the average man or woman on the street.

It was a dark side of him, one which he believed that everyone possessed in one form or another, and in the quietness of the night Richard Castle knew that he would kill, should anything happen to Kate. He would use his hands, not content to allow a weapon to do the job for him. His hands would be the device that took the life out of Jerry Tyson, or anyone else, who tried to harm Kate or anyone else in his family.

As the clock ticked away the minutes remaining, he was content with the knowledge while offering up prayers to a God that he wasn't sure he believed in that he would never be pushed towards that breaking point.

* * *

He was a man who prided himself on punctuality, measured steps cutting a path through the parking lot of the motel and straight up the stairs to the room he had once inhabited as a witness. The room where he had first been unmasked, had been forced to abandoned a carefully built facade. One where he should have put a bullet from Kevin Ryan's gun into the writer's head.

He sometimes debated with himself on if that had been a mistake. Tyson wasn't a man who lived on regrets, he was a man of action, of decisiveness. But that decision gnawed at him sometimes, waging a war with the satisfaction and fun he'd found in toying with Richard Castle, his lovely muse, and her rag-tag sidekicks ever since.

Not that it mattered, much. He considered the time as he checked his watch, mentally counting the time since he'd abandoned Kate Beckett on the West Side docks. She'd been hanging there almost two hours, long enough for the strain of her muscles to have become unbearable, long enough for the drug to spread through her system and begin beckoning her towards unconsciousness. It was really a matter of time, the question of if her body would give out on its own from the pressure to continue breathing or if the drug would beat her organs into it, pulling her unconscious and eliminating the basic desire to fight until her final gasping, stuttering breathing was silenced by drugs and gravity.

His shoulders lifted slightly in a shrug as he stopped in front of the door, the writer having left it open while he stood staring at photos. The click of two guns on either side let him know that Castle wasn't alone, that the ragtag sidekicks were also on the hunt.

And he only smiled, raising his hands on either side of his face, "You could shoot me, but then you'd never know where she is," he offered, his grin growing that much wider as the writer physically flinched.

'You bastard," he growled, quick strides sending him across the room for his left hand to connect sharply against Tyson's jaw.

The two detectives reacted immediately, one lunging towards Castle while the other hauled him away by the back of his shirt, tossing him up against the wall with the gun pinned in his face.

All the while Tyson laughed, gently touching the swollen skin, "I seemed to have touched a nerve," he spoke, fresh chuckles issuing from his mouth as Javier Esposito sandwiched his body between the two of them.

"Jerry Tyson, you are under arrest for the kidnapping of Detective Kate Beckett and two murders - of Pam Ho-" Ryan spoke up, Tyson's voice clearly cutting across his as he smirked.

"Actually, its three murders," he said calmly, using the moment of stunned silence to reach forward and grab the gun, slamming it against Kevin Ryan's face for the second time in his life.

"He really should expect that by now," he said, raising his left arm to point the gun at the two other men as Ryan slumped to the floor, 'Now, you two, I'm going to back out of here. And you are going to give me a ten minute head start. Once I'm gone? You can go retrieve her body, I'll even throw you a bone and text the location."

He continued walking backwards as he spoke, his gun trained on Esposito's chest until he had reached the staircase.

It was then that the man fired, the bullet grazing Tyson's calf as he swung his weight down the stairs and let off a couple shots of his own.

And then he ran, dodging a few more bullets as they flew through the air, one shattering the glass of an older model sedan while he ran past, his leg smarting from the sting of the metal.

* * *

In that moment, Castle cared very little about the physical status of Kevin Ryan. Both he and Esposito had left the detective propped against the railing, a trail of blood painting his forehead, while Espo clutched his radio to call for paramedics.

They had both taken off after Tyson, Castle keeping in stride as they sprinted across the parking lot.

Tyson was slower than usual, the injury to his leg leaving him unable to put his full weight into his stride as they gained on him, the two men communicating with a few measured looks and gestures.

Esposito pulled up short, his gun draw and ready to fire as Castle put on a burst of speed, his entire body screaming in protest as the gap closed and he launched his body into Tyson's and tackled him to the ground.

And then he rolled. pulling the extra weight with him as he moved to his feet, hands latching around Tyson's neck in a haze of adrenaline.

"You tell me where she is!" he spat, the words low and heavy in his throat while he squeezed, the muscles of his arms contracting in time with the pressure as the man gasped for air.

"Castle, bro, let go!" Esposito called, pulling against his grip with one arm while keeping his gun aloft with the other.

"NO," Castle shouted, elbowing the cop away and giving another squeeze, "Not until we know where Kate is."

'He isn't going to tell you Castle, let him go," he spoke up, watching as Tyson's eyes closed, his attempts for air slowing as he headed towards unconsciousness.

It was the weight of the body held in his hands that did it - the haze of adrenaline and fury giving way to something sickening as Castle dropped his hands, Tyson slumping to his knees as he fought to stay conscious, air rattling against his windpipe while he sucked it in.

He heard Esposito reading Tyson his rights, the click of handcuffs against his wrists and a dispatch call for both paramedics and a cruiser but it meant nothing. He had almost killed a man, almost choked the life from him.

And he didn't regret it. A large part of him was sorry that he hadn't, was convinced the only reason he had stopped was desperation for Kate's location.

The nausea hit him suddenly, Castle stumbling several steps away to dry heave over a small patch of grass and bushes. He'd almost killed a man and he wasn't sorry. He almost killed a man without caring about the consequences or discovering the information he so desperately needed.

He'd almost killed a man.

* * *

Tyson was in custody, booked on multiple murders in New York with countless others pending across the country. The kidnapping charge was nearly an afterthought, though it had now become the priority.

None of them had missed the certainty with which he'd declared there were three murders and Javier worked to suppress the shiver of fear that crept along his spine.

He was a military man, and he knew how easy to was to end a life - he had been the one pulling the trigger with alarming regularity not so long ago - but every lead had been a dead end. There were no credit cards to track, only cash, the ID in Tyson's wallet had been fake, likely created by the man himself. Even the cell phone in his pocket had been purchased with cash, another burner phone.

The phone was the only remaining lead, all of the cell's used during the case lined up in front of Tori as she typed away furiously. She had run down their locations one by one, noting any towers that read multiple phones, any neighborhood or central location with which to start a search for Beckett.

Tori was one of the best in the NYPD, but she had come up with depressingly little so far.

"The phones all came from the same store, we tracked them by the manufacture number and where they were shipped - a bodega in Queens, uni's went out and questioned the cashier on duty but they weren't of any help. Gates is having a couple detectives from the borough wake up the owner and the manager, they will be on their way in - we've also requested all the records of cell phone sales for the past month," his partner rattled off, a pile of paperwork in his hand. He was sporting a giant bandage across his forehead, a couple of stitches enclosed underneath, and a spectacular bruise but it was Beckett - he'd been back on the case the moment he was conscious.

"We'll find her, Castle," Ryan added, glancing towards the corner where their other partner was huddled, face in his hands. He hadn't spoken much since Tyson had been booked, even forgoing the interrogation that had stalled out long before it had ever started.

The writer only nodded, his hands falling to his lap, shadows smudged under his eyes - eyes that looked as if his world was on the verge of a complete collapse.


	7. Chapter 7

_Authors Note: Strangely, this was the easiest chapter to write, though the ending came out the opposite of what I set out to do. Sometimes, even with the best intentions, a story guides you a different direction. I wrote it as was originally intended (and will post that later), but this spoke as a truer end. Initially this was intended to to be the alternate ending, a 'what if' scenario that has two accompanying chapters. _

_I'll still post those, though they are now canon in the basis of this little AU-verse. As I've posted for every chapter thus far, spoilers for episode 6X09 'Disciple' as determined from the promo video, the first sneak peek, and interviews with Tamala Jones and Andrew Marlowe. As a final __**WARNING: This chapter includes the death of a major character.**__ Read at your own risk. _

* * *

The chain snapped with a sharp tinkle of metal, the sound followed by a low sob and a grunt of pain as Kate's hands lost their purchase on the links and her body crashed towards the floor - the jolt rattling her skull just before her feet would have touched the ground as the momentum sent her body swinging wildly like a pendulum on a clock.

The pain was all encompassing, spreading from her bound wrists and down her arms to the tips of her toes, her body straining and protesting as it hung. The pain had made breathing even harder, aided by the continued cold creeping across her skin that left her teeth chattering and her muscles shivering.

And she was tired. She was _so_ tired - of hanging suspended, of the pain, of pulling herself up for relief, of gasping and panting for any decent amount of air to enter her lungs. The concept of time was muddled, but she knew it had been hours. Her thread on reality was slipping, the drug in her system continuing to dull her senses and leaving her with an urge to sleep that was more than even the tiredness of her body and the weakness from too little food and not enough sleep.

It was the gathering wetness against her t-shirt that alerted her to the fact she was crying, the knowledge doing nothing to stop it but instead pushing the tears out that much faster. And soon it was more than silent tears, as Kate let it go, unleashing a throaty sob and a moan that sounded like she was a dying animal.

It hurt. For all her acceptance earlier in the night that this could be her end, every inch of her body, her heart, and her soul hurt. The knowledge that she would be leaving behind a life with Castle. A life full of so much potential, so much happiness. And she didn't want to leave him. She wanted to die curled up in a warm bed, surrounded by children and grandchildren. She wanted more time, more laughs. She needed more time to roll her eyes at his ridiculous theories, to watch him write, to see Alexis graduate from college, for Martha's inevitable return to Broadway, to see her dad's face as he gave her away at her wedding, or the first time he held his grandchild.

Kate Beckett wanted so much. She had fought so hard for her happy ending, but she could feel it slipping through her fingers. Her life, her essence was leaking through the cracks like it was no more than water.

"Oh God," she whispered, her chest heaving with the effort to breath around the suffocating feeling of gravity pulling her down and the tightness in her throat and chest from her continued tears, "I'm so sorry Castle, I'm so sorry….." Kate whispered, hanging her head as her eyes slipped closed, "I didn't want it to end like this…" she slurred, feeling the dull pull of the drug and her exhaustion.

It was whispering to her, a calm urging to simply let go and give up. It was such a horrible concept but one that she was steadily losing the ability to fight. with each second it grew harder to breath, the lack of oxygen setting her lungs on fire, leaving the organs struggling as they demanded more air. Her body left screaming in a different sort of protest as its basic needs slowly ceased to be met.

Kate was drowning, the sensation in her body slowly falling numb as her vision swam and her brain became fuzzy. But she gave one last attempt, her hands curling around the chain in a final effort to pull herself upright, to find a few more breaths, to buy a little more time. To hold on in the faint hope that someone would find her before it was too late.

It wasn't meant to be, her hands slipping as her muscles gave out, the last of her breath leaving in a rush as Kate's head bowed and her eyes closed.

* * *

It'd taken three hours after Tyson's arrest for something to pop, the final cell phone in the bunch pinging on a cluster of towers near the West Side docks along with hits to Castle's loft, and the apartments of both victims.

No matter how many other phones had been used, GPS had tagged Tyson at all the locations. It had been enough, even without the bodgea manager's ID of Pam Hodges as the purchaser of the phones.

They hadn't even waited for the warrant, a task force piling into a van as a handful of uniforms, Captain Gates, and the trio of Ryan, Castle and himself racing across the city.

Still, searches took time, a sweep of all the buildings in a four block radius eating into valuable minutes. And that was without searching any boats that were docked at the harbor.

He was praying it didn't come to that.

* * *

It was the fourth building.

Castle had been following quietly behind Ryan, Esposito and a section of task force members, his fear growing with each building they passed which turned up no clues.

They had busted in with the usual formation, Esposito and another task member covering Ryan as he took the point. None of them had expected a stuttered gasp or the horror in his voice as he said Beckett's name.

But Castle had charged forward, bypassing all of the others waiting outside the door, shoving Esposito as he tried to block him from entering. He didn't care if he was walking into a shootout, if there was another madman waiting to gun him down, or blow him up. Dangers be damned, Kate was inside and he had to see her.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight, of her body slicing a straight line across the warehouse as she hung in the air. He could see she was wet, the cuts and swollen patches of her skin bringing tears to his eyes as he shouted her name and took off at a run, not caring that he was now openly crying, unable to tell if his reaction was from finally finding her or the realization that she hadn't responded to his shout.

'Kate, Kate, please….." Castle was sobbing now, his arms wrapping around her legs as someone yelled for bolt cutters and a ladder, "Wake up, honey, please. You've got to wake up. We are here, you're going to be fine….'

She was freezing, her body like ice against the skin of his arms and Castle found himself wishing he were wearing a jacket, something that he could place around her to warm her up. But the paramedics were coming, they'd have blankets and warm fluids and she'd be fine. As soon as she woke up, she'd be find. They'd treat her cuts and he'd find her the best physical therapist in the city to help with the soreness in her arms and shoulders.

She'd be fine.

He stayed latched onto that mantra, gently rubbing her feet and legs to restore circulation as the team worked to cut through the chain. And no one stopped him, everyone keeping their distance from the two of them. Later he'd hate himself, question how he could have been so stupid. Have missed something so obvious but, in that moment, he still had hope.

The snap of the chain link breaking apart and the dead weight of Kate's body as she fell from the pipe released him from the notion, a different sort of sob coming out of him in a howl.

Her lips were blue, her chest still as he cradled her in his arms, her name a chant on his lips as he rocked back and forth on the concrete. "Open your eyes, Kate, come on. Just open them and smile at me, tell me to stop staring….just something…anything," Castle sobbed, his voice ending on a whimper as he lowered his head to rest against hers, tears dripping freely down his face, "Please don't leave me," he added at last, ready to beg and bargain with the devil himself if it'd bring her back.

But she remained silent, his maddening, beautiful, playful and extraordinary Katherine Beckett wouldn't again open her eyes to tell him that he was being creepy by watching her sleep. He'd never again toss out a theory just to see her fight a smile and roll her eyes. There would be no more lazy Sunday mornings in bed, no wedding or seeing her body grow to accommodate their child.

Their story had ended as soon as her heart had stopped beating in her chest.

Kate was gone.

* * *

_Authors Note (Part 2): And that's all she wrote. I'm sure you all hate me right now (and that's fine), but I followed what the characters led me too. There's more to come from this story - I'm finishing up the alternate version of Chapter 7 now. And we will have four more chapters of one-shots as an epilogue of sorts, two for this ending and two for the other. Hopefully you'll stick around for those._

Thanks for reading/reviewing!


	8. Chapter 7 Alternate

_Authors Note: Well, hello! No one has sent me any notes of rage, so I suppose the last chapter wasn't so bad. But now, I present you with the alternate ending. As a reminder, there are four more chapters to this story - two for the original ending, and two for this one. I hope you enjoy! _

* * *

He was going to buy Tori something obscenely extravagant. The Twelfth's resident IT expert had cracked the case open with the final cell phone, the GPS system embedded in all smartphones pinging from towers near the West Side docks in a sequence of times of dates that coincided with Kate's kidnapping.

They'd had other evidence, all gathered by Ryan and a few assigned to assist him, but Tori was the one who was in line for the biggest and best gift of her life. In fact, had he not been engaged and deeply in love with Kate, he'd probably have kissed her.

But he'd restrained himself, piling into the boys temporary cruiser as they followed a tactical unit through the streets of Manhattan, sirens blaring.

Another team had already hit the pavement at the location, setting up a perimeter around the four blocks of warehouses to begin the search. The two teams were splitting up, taking the outside blocks first and working their way in, with four sections raiding buildings simultaneously to both manage time and condense the element of surprise should Tyson have another accomplice.

He was trying to remain calm, sweat gathering against his palms as he continuously fidgeted in the backseat. Castle knew that this was it, the assurance coiling low in his stomach and providing both a sense of calm and a level of anxiety that he hadn't experienced in quiet some time.

But they were coming for Kate, they were going to save her, and maybe Jerry Tyson would be extradited to a state where the death penalty was enforced.

* * *

Kate wasn't the sort of person who broke easily. In her 34 years she'd been through hell quite a few times, and she was still standing. But she'd also never actively had to work as hard to keep herself afloat as her time hanging suspended from the pipe.

Even when she had been shot, she'd been unconscious for the worst of it. The pain had been intense, it had spread across her body like an inferno, and the mental scars were the sort she always carried but, on the physical level, her body had gone numb and her mind unconscious before the worst of the process had hit her.

This was a different take entirely. She could feel the ache in her muscles and her bones, the burn in her lungs as it grew ever more difficult to breathe in air. The pull of the drug in her blood making a very strong case to simply close her eyes and rest. Because she was tired, so tired of the back and forth fight to either pull herself up by the chain or stretch her feet for a little relief for her legs.

She was tired of the struggle to breath, of the searing pain in her arms and her torso.

But, she was also angry and the anger was her talisman, burning brightly and sustaining one last quiet note of hope that she'd somehow be able to support herself long enough for help to come. That her life wouldn't end because she had suffocated at the hands of a psychotic serial killer.

So Kate gritted her teeth, a cry slipping from her mouth as she gripped the chain in her hands and used every ounce of remaining strength to pull herself upright, tears pouring down her face at the desperate realization that this was it. That she likely wouldn't manage to pull herself up again and would, slowly, cease to breathe.

"Hurry, Castle," she whispered, feeling the muscles in her shoulders begin to shake in protest, and Kate forced herself to steadily suck in long gasps of air even as her throat tightened from the pressure of her tears and the slight sobs from her open mouth.

It lasted less than a minute, her exhausted muscles losing the war with gravity as her hand slipped from the chain and Kate lost whatever semblance on control she had been holding as she used her last bit of air to cry out - her body swinging wildly as the sudden change in position rattled her skull and zapped the air from her lungs as her vision blurred and her lungs burned for air.

* * *

The sound of a scream had them all running - ignoring the building they had been preparing to enter in favor of the one beside it. The tactical team spread out quickly, Esposito and Ryan acting as the point. Several gestures and nods later, Esposito slammed the heel of his boot against the door as the team surged in behind him.

"CASTLE," Ryan's voice cut above the noises, sending him surging forward and shoving aside one of the last men to enter the warehouse, putting Kate's suspended body directly in his line of sight and stopping him cold for just a moment.

It was horrifying, how she had been suspended by her wrists, the stillness of her body and the obvious injuries that she had sustained. It hit him like a brick wall, cutting him into equal parts horror, rage, sadness and sympathy. But he didn't process any of it, instead taking off at a sprint and wrapping his arms around her legs as a tactical member ascended a ladder and went to work cutting the chain to free Kate from the pipe.

"It's okay, Kate, I'm here," he assured her, ignoring how cold her body felt, or how shallow and far apart her breaths were coming. He could hear Ryan ordering for paramedics immediately, the dispatcher's response lost in the sound of separating metal as the chain snapped and Kate's body sank down into his arms.

He curled himself around her, gently lowering her to the floor with soft whispers that both meant nothing and everything. In that moment he was promising her everything short of the moon and the stars, and yet nothing at all, the words almost sounding like nonsense. He just needed to talk, to provide some sense of reality to tether her back to the world as Ryan took her pulse, "It's there, barely," he murmured on Castle's left side while he placed her head in his lap and gently stroked her hair.

"She's alive," Castle responded, feeling the tears that had been threatening him for the past 24 hours finally break free as two paramedics charged through the open door and approached the three of them. "We got to her in time, she's made it through worse than this. She'll get through this as well."

* * *

There had been a rotating vigil around Kate's hospital bed, though she had been unaware of it.

Castle had split the time with Jim Beckett, though he had yet to stray very far from the door and the officer that was guarding it. Though he needed a shower, a shave, to change his clothes, he couldn't bring himself to do any of those things - not until she was awake and he could talk to her.

Alexis and his mother had both made appearances, frantic for news on Kate's condition and the full story of what had happened. Lanie had taken the reigns when his voice had given out, emotions overcoming him when he'd attempted to describe the scene in the loft when he'd come back. It felt like it had happened months ago, rather than a couple of days.

Mild hypothermia, pulled muscles and thirty stitches in her arm. Another twenty in her side. All things that would heal with time and physical therapy. She'd been referred back to Doctor Burke for therapy, put on disability pay for three weeks, pending a psych clearance and then desk work until the pt would allow her to work her arms with some ease.

Her shoulders would likely require some sort of surgery down the road, the pressure of hanging for hours causing the sort of damage that, eventually, would catch up to Kate.

But she was alive. She would, in time, be able to go back to work. Tyson hadn't succeeded in taking her from him.

That thought was the one that so often caught him by surprise, not because he wasn't devoutly aware, but because he was so grateful. Without fail, the thought brought tears to his eyes, stole breath from his lungs, and had him chanting a steady stream of thank you to whatever deity that had given Kate such resilience to hold on.

Because she should have died. Her body should have suffocated. The doctors had all expressed what a miracle it was that she'd lived through it. That she'd, yet again, cheated death as it sat whispering on her shoulder.

He had been sitting in a chair just outside the door, her eyes locked on a bare patch of wall as he again went through his silent mantra of gratefulness that Kate was alive, it took Jim Beckett softly clasping his shoulder to remove him from his inner monologue, the older man's smile calm and assuring, "She's waking up, Rick. You go on in, I'll see her when you are finished."

And he again found himself grateful, that the father of the love of his life would be so willing to give him the moment. To be the person sitting beside Kate's bed as she came back to the world.

"Thank you, Jim." he whispered, the look in his eyes providing more than Castle could have ever possibly spoken.

* * *

The first realization was that her body had moved. The solid weight of a mattress and the warmth of blankets cradling her body. The pain in her shoulders and arm a dull throb rather than the sharp knives that she'd become accustomed too.

There was also beeping, the soft murmur of a television and a whir of other machines. Enough to give Kate the idea that she was likely in a hospital, though it was going to take more effort and energy than she thought she had to open her eyes and find out.

But then she heard it, the soft call of her name, the sound said with such reverence and love that tears suddenly pricked at her eyes, "Castle," she whispered, her voice croaking on the last syllable as her tongue darted out to moisten her dry lips and she worked to ease the dryness of her throat.

Immediately a straw was at her mouth, Castle's voice urging her to drink, and she responded unconsciously, the coldness of the water providing relief and easing the slight discomfort she'd had. And then his hand was clasped around hers, his thumb tracing soothing circles against the sensitive skin between her thumb and forefinger - a reminder of all the handshakes they'd perfected in the months they'd been unable to acknowledge their relationship in front of Captain Gates.

"We got you, and we got him. He's locked up and has a dozen life sentences to serve," Castle whispered, his breath ghosting over her ear as he gently placed kisses on her forehead, and her cheek. "And you are going to be fine. I'm so glad, Kate. I'm so happy you are safe," he repeated, the soft pressure of his lips against hers making her mouth lift up slightly.

'Castle," she spoke slowly, her eyes fluttering open for a moment, 'Do you think we've hit our quota for near death experiences yet?"

It made him chuckle, his eyes losing some of the seriousness to be replaced with a sparkle as he drew his chair closer to the bed, "I hope so, honey," he murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear as she closed her eyes on a sigh, that one sentence all she could manage before she felt the pull of sleep.

"M'sleepy," Kate breathed, "Love you," she whispered after a beat as Castle watched her breathing even out as she moved back into the land of dreams.

"Love you too," he replied, keeping her hand firmly clasped in his own while she slept.


	9. Chapter 8

_Author's Note: This took a bit longer to write, just to get the tone where I wanted it. Considering how the last chapter ended, I thought it was important that we see life for Castle afterwards. I'm aware that the end is a little cliche and cheesy, but I tried multiple options and always came right back to what you'll see at the end. _

_The poem is 'A Psalm of Life' by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. _

* * *

They bury Kate the following Monday, eight days after her 34th birthday and four after her death. Its sunny outside, the sky a bright blue that so reminds Castle of the last time he stood in a cemetery. Initially, he has trouble getting out of the car, memories of a gunshot, and green grass a backdrop to the scarlet red of Kate's blood as it left her body. Of his pleas, so urgent and truthful, of the fear and pain in her eyes before they closed.

When he finally makes it out of the car, its only to stumble several steps and vomit on the grass - grass which is slowly dying as the comfortable temperatures of autumn give way to the bite of winter.

It's the most appropriate thing he's thought of since he'd watched the paramedics feeble attempts to shock and pump her back to life. Since they'd called her time of death and carried her body away for an autopsy that he desperately hadn't wanted them to do.

it wasn't that he thought it'd hurt her - he knew she was beyond any more pain or suffering, but that he couldn't take the thought of more scars marring her skin. He didn't want to know how she had died, if she had been conscious and aware or pulled safely into the lull of sleep and thereby eased into whatever remained after death.

And that was something else he was dealing with, a war between his anger at any god or higher power that would take away someone as brilliant and full of passion and life as Kate, while scum like Jerry Tyson and William Bracken not only roamed the Earth, but could become influential and important people within it. It made him want to rage at the sky, to tear his hair out and curse at every single thing that lived and breathed.

But he also had found a small comfort in the idea of an afterlife, that maybe there was a place where Kate had finally reunited with her mother and had healed that part of her soul that had been broken for so long.

He stands silent at her funeral, tears dripping down his face as Alexis and his mother hold him upright. Jim Beckett's hand is firmly clasped in Martha's on his left side, with Lanie, the boys all in rank at the right. He declines to give Kate's eulogy, not trusting himself to be able to form words that could ever adequately describe what an incredible woman she was. He was sure he'd run out of words, that every single one known in the English language could be spoken and only brush against what beauty and grace he had been blessed to know and love.

Instead, Jenny speaks for all of them - her voice carrying across the afternoon air.

_Tell me not, in mournful numbers,_

_ "Life is but an empty dream!"_

_For the soul is dead that slumbers,_

_ And things are not what they seem._

_Life is real! Life is earnest!_

_ And the grave is not its goal;_

_"Dust thou art, to dust returnest,"_

_ Was not spoken of the soul._

_Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,_

_ Is our destined end or way;_

_But to act, that each to-morrow_

_ Finds us farther than to-day._

_Art is long, and Time is fleeting,_

_ And our hearts, though stout and brave,_

_Still, like muffled drums, are beating_

_ Funeral marches to the grave._

_In the world's broad field of battle,_

_ In the bivouac of Life,_

_Be not like dumb, driven cattle!_

_ Be a hero in the strife!_

_Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!_

_ Let the dead Past bury its dead!_

_Act,-act in the living Present!_

_ Heart within, and God overhead!_

_Lives of great men all remind us_

_ We can make our lives sublime,_

_And, departing, leave behind us_

_ Footprints on the sands of time;_

_Footprints, that perhaps another,_

_ Sailing o'er life's solemn main,_

_A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,_

_ Seeing, shall take heart again._

_Let us, then, be up and doing,_

_ With a heart for any fate;_

_Still achieving, still pursuing_

_ Learn to labor and to wait._

* * *

For the two weeks following the funeral, he simply sits. Usually it's with a bottle of scotch close by, three fingers poured into a glass that he holds and slowly drinks as he stares out the window. Sometimes its with coffee, though he can't bring himself to take a sip. Instead he holds it until he realizes the warmth has leeched out and then it takes everything he has not to throw whatever mug he has used across the room because it reminds him of that day. Of how cold her body felt. Of how she had left him.

Inevitably he ends up crying. Sometimes its nothing more than a few tears, other times he finds himself inconsolable and it lasts until his body and mind are exhausted. After those episodes he sleeps for hours. It's the only sound sleep he ever gets.

Strangely, its Pi who pulls him out of the daze. When his daughters annoying boyfriend dropping by unannounced with Alexis' key in his hand it annoys Castle enough that he jerks out of the chair when he realizes what is happening . Pi has entered his home and is digging through his stuff - no, _their_ stuff (it will always be their stuff, his and Kate's) - for reason's that he truly cannot begin to fathom.

And so he yells, unleashing a barrage of words and insults and truly awful things at Pi. Half of them don't even make sense and even more don't apply to the boy, but they come out anyway.

To his credit, Pi doesn't even flinch. He freezes in place, his head titled slightly like a puppy and he listens to every word of it. He absorbs it all and, when Castle has finally exhausted his anger, lifts his shoulders in a shrug as he holds up a textbook.

"Alexis left this the last time she was here; she's busy with a study session to try and catch up before finals and she didn't have her book. Since I have the afternoon off, I got her spare key and came to pick it up," the words leave him calmly, his eyes carrying some sort of emotion that Castle can't begin to decipher and then the two of them stand there with only the coffee table separating them.

The silence stretches on and on, until Pi's phone chimes with a text message and he fishes it from his pocket. He reads it silently, though Castle doesn't miss the slight wrinkle of his nose, and then the phone is back in his pocket and his daughter's boyfriend is striding towards the door like nothing ever happened.

"See you later, Mr. C," he calls as he pivots through the door, the muffled thud of the front door the only sound while Castle is left struggling to understand what happened.

Despite himself, his respect for Pi grows a bit when months pass without it ever being mentioned.

* * *

On Christmas Day he chooses to go to The Old Haunt after a small breakfast with his family and Jim. They exchange presents, and its all very pleasant, but it's not a facade any of them can keep up.

By 10 a.m. they've all gone their separate ways and he's manning the bar, serving drinks to people who are just as lonely as he is. It doesn't help, but the work keeps his mind and his hands busy. It keeps him from falling apart until he crawls into bed late that night.

On New Year's Eve he ignores everyone in favor of the scotch. On New Year's Day he sleeps off his hangover.

On January 9, he goes to the graveyard, both hands clutching bouquets of bright flowers that look obscenely out of place in the middle of winter. Not that he cares.

Kate rests to the right of her mother, the headstone shiny and new. It's the first time he has seen it - the first time he's been back in the cemetery at all since the funeral - but it doesn't slice him open like he expected. It's a quiet pain, the sort that still has the power to push all the air from his lungs and stop his heart, but one that he is slowly learning to cope with.

He kneels at Johanna Beckett's grave first, placing the bouquet against the stone and slowly running his hand over the epitaph. And while he holds a deep respect and love for a woman who he never knew, it is Kate that he has come to see and he turns his attention to the new stone, reverently placing another bouquet on the ground with a long sigh.

"I'd say that you are probably angry with me for waiting so long but…." Castle halts, ignoring the cold of the ground for the moment as he sits down, stretching his legs towards the stone, "…well, I'm not sure if you can hear me at all or even be angry anymore. But it helps if I think you can."

He lets those words hang in the air, allowing the acceptance and meaning of them to sink in his mind. It's possibly the first time he's acknowledged her death with anything resembling acceptance. It's progress, isn't it?

"I miss you," Castle finally whispers, his heart aching with the admission, "It turns out that I don't do so well when I'm left to my own devices which is funny because there was a time when the idea of sharing my space with another woman for more than a night, or a weekend, was more than I could stand. But, like everything else in my life, you managed to change that."

"Your dad is doing well, maybe better than I am, my mother has kept him occupied. Gets him to come round for dinner with us, they've gone to the movies, to shows - things like that. And I…I've started writing - again, I mean. Nothing I'm ever going to use, or ever even read, but I just had to get it out. All this emotion was eating me alive and writing Nikki and Rook…' he chokes on the names, brushing back a few tears, 'Black Pawn is going to announce that the books are on an indefinite hiatus. Right now I just can't face them without you, Gina even conceded that it was for the best and you know how often we agree on things."

And so it goes for the next hour as Castle sits in front of Kate's grave, spilling a months worth of words that he'd been unable to unleash outside of a computer screen. His back and legs ache when he finally stands, but somehow he's a little more prepared to walk away and work on a life without Kate.

It helps that there are pieces of her everywhere, he has everything from her computer to her book collection to her couch in his loft. Now the place looks like what he thought it might be when Kate moved in with him. He's sure some people find it morbid. To him its been a comfort.

The overcast sky breaks just as he prepares to leave, the sun leaking through the clouds to spread patches of light over the cemetery. One beam illuminates the two headstones in front of him. Kate's sparkles in the sun, the polish of the stone bright in the afternoon light as he touches his fingertips to his lips, curving them over the top of the stone in a silent goodbye.

He walks away slowly, stopping for one last glance over his shoulder as the clouds roll in and steadily eliminate the sunlight.

For the moment, the black stone still shines, and it's the epitaph that makes him smile, the one provision that she had made for a potential funeral.

"_Always_."


	10. Chapter 8 Alternate

_Author's Note: Talk about taking forever! I rewrote this something like 10 different times, using all sorts of scenarios. At first it focused specifically on Kate's recovery, which felt too heavy handed, and then dipped into something a little to saccharine. Hopefully this is a good balance. Considering the ease with which the final chapter flowed, I think I went in the right direction. :) _

* * *

It's a quiet Christmas as Kate focuses on recovery.

Her three weeks of disability pay stretch out into two months, and the combined pain of physical therapy and the emotional fallout of resurgent PTSD leave her too exhausted to embark on a big celebration.

But it isn't all bad, they spend Christmas Eve watching movies and cuddling on the couch in her apartment and take a walk through the snowy streets from her SoHo neighborhood and into his in TriBeCa. They even stop at the coffee shop where Castle picks up their order each morning before he goes to the precinct, and its standing in front of the cafe where Castle finally asks Kate to move in with him.

He gapes openly when she politely tells him no, threading her fingers through his to pull him down the sidewalk towards his building.

She explains her answer as they sit in his living room, the lights from Castle's enormous tree flashing color across the walls as he works on stuffing an iPad for Alexis down into her stocking - never mind that it absolutely isn't going to fit. It's where he wants to put it and Kate wouldn't be surprised if he ran out to buy a bigger stocking so that his master plan can continue.

(She has long since given up trying to understand just what that plan is.)

"I just want you to understand that its not anything to do with you," Kate says from the couch, ignoring the knot in her stomach at his continued silence, "I'm just…." she takes a deep breath, her brows knitting together while she forces out the admission, "I'm not ready to be here full time, not after everything."

It's said so softly that, if he hadn't been listening he would have missed it. Still, the realization hits him hard and guilt immediately floods his body when he stands to wrap his arms around her, "I didn't think of it," he finally says, brushing a kiss into her hair with a long sigh.

But it makes sense when he pushes aside his nostalgia for Christmas and the excitement of building their life together. They have spent more time in Kate's apartment since the kidnapping, she rarely spends the night with him and, in the handful of times she has, sleep has either not come at all or been a fleeting friend. And while he didn't miss the long amounts of time where she is locked in his bathroom, he finds himself wondering just how much of that was spent trying to control her emotions at being in a place where she was attacked.

Still, he accepts her quiet explanation without any other discussion, only telling her that the offer is a standing one whenever she decides she is ready. Then they sit in silence for a while, Kate curled in his lap as the tree continues to flash and it isn't until she finally falls asleep that he goes back to arranging presents.

Once he finishes, he doesn't bother to wake her, instead scooping her up and tucking her into bed.

* * *

They get married in May, just three days after the one year mark of their engagement.

The venue is the same one that hosted the party for_ Storm Fall_, and the wedding is all hard lines and soft textures with deep purple and pink flowers, leather hardback books and a dash of silk. Kate picks a dress that manages to make it hard for Castle to keep his hands off her during the reception, but is somehow tastefully and demure, and he doesn't even try to stop crying when she walks towards him on her dads arm or during the vows when he finally learns that she fell in love with his words long before she ever met him.

She stands next to him with a steadiness that keeps him anchored to the moment, full of sparkling eyes, open laughter and soft smiles while he talks of how she is worth every frustrating and wonderful moment, of how he still enjoys discovering all of her mysteries and secrets. It's when Castle whispers to her that she has filled a part of his soul that he didn't know he was missing that Kate finally cries, and its when they seal the ceremony with a kiss that she manages to stop.

Its the reception that really makes their wedding, full of food that he spent days of tasting and considering. There is both a DJ and a full band that keep them all on the dance floor until Kate finally begins to protest that she can't possibly dance anymore.

He loses track of how many times he whisks her away to some dark corner for a kiss or, occasionally, a little more, but its around 2 a.m. that he presses his mouth against hers beside the bar and she declares that its time for them to leave.

They exit quietly, having discarded the garter and the bouquet hours before. And its a full two weeks before any of their family or friends see them again as he and his wife hole up on a yacht in the Mediterranean and visit some of the coastal towns of Greece and Turkey.

Kate even takes him to Keiv before they return to New York, showing him all the spots where she studied in her semester abroad.

* * *

She takes the test on Halloween.

It's only at Lanie's urging that she even considers it, completely convinced that her aching bones and nausea are merely the residuals of the flu that both Alexis and Castle caught. She pointedly ignores the idea that it was three weeks ago, and that both of them have fully recovered.

In fact, she's gone a week without even seeing Castle, as he's off doing publicity and signings for his latest Derrick Storm graphic novel. The last time she talked to him, he'd been sitting on a beach in Miami and telling her they should move so she could become a beach cop and patrol in a bikini. And though she'd rolled her eyes, given him that exasperated tone of voice that he loved pulling out of her, it did sound like a great idea as New York hangs on the edge of a cold and wet winter with single digit temperatures and blizzard warnings.

Lanie corners her in the morgue, tossing the suggestion out in the middle of a line about how the victim on her slab had his throat slashed after he was killed and its alternately so absurd and so entirely possible that Kate gets caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

She spends all day thinking about it, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth and powering through without her much beloved caffeine fix to interrogate their primary suspect and interview the victims girlfriend. Just before they break for the day, Ryan produces a photo of Isla, his month old baby girl, resting on Jenny's chest as she naps and Kate finds herself openly wishing for something that she had been so certain would be at least a year or two away.

She goes directly from the precinct to the drug store on the corner, and then immediately to the loft, her body a bundle of nerves and anxiety while she paces her living room and waits for the results.

When Castle calls her later that night, it takes every ounce of her self-control not to blurt it out over the phone, but she falls asleep to the sound of his voice and wakes up with a dream of a little boy with dark hair and bright blue eyes fresh in her mind.

* * *

It's four days later when she tells Castle.

He's been back in the city for two of them, long enough for Kate and the boys to have pulled a confession from the victims landlord and close the case. Short enough that she's been too busy to do much but say hello and thank you for the coffee that she only pretends to drink all the while feeling like this intense secret she is carrying is going to pull her apart.

It's completely miserable, as well, knowing that she's got such a huge life altering thing to tell him but being unwilling to share it at work around a bunch of other people.

So, Kate holds her tongue until they finally have time alone.

When she passes on the offer of a glass of wine with her food at dinner, she sees the wheels beginning to spin in Castle's head while they eat. She can imagine the things which he is running through in his head, probably just registering that her entire day was worked through with no additional coffee and her occasional mention of not feeling well when he had been on his trip. Still, she remains quiet when he lightly dips a toe into the pool of their future though Kate has to hide her smile behind a curtain of curls, biting down on her lip to stifle the laugh that so desperately wants to break free as he talks about how Alexis would love a sibling and the lone uninhabited room in the loft.

Once he starts tossing out ideas for paint colors she decides to take pity on him.

"Castle, stop," she says as he continues speaking, her smile bright and easy when he immediately goes silent, "You don't have to keep giving me heavy handed hints, you know. I get it."

He then tries to backtrack, stammering out an apology about pushing too much too soon and his imagination getting the better of him as she carries both of their empty plates to the dishwasher. He never sees her roll her eyes in exasperation, or notices when she slides a package wrapped in plain brown paper out of her bag.

But he does go silent again when she presents it to him, her bottom lip caught firmly between her teeth as he carefully pulls the paper away to reveal the book - The Completely Guide to Baby Names.

It takes milliseconds, just long enough for Castle to read and process the title, before he is up on his feet and sweeping her into his arms, a laugh booming through the loft while he hugs her against his chest. It's a beat before his lips cover her own, and then there is nothing but a reenactment of how she ended up carrying his child in the first place.


	11. Chapter 9

_Author's Note: Tissue warning. Only because ya'll keep telling me I should give them to you. The italicized portion that Castle reads from is also written by me - as a part of his book. _

* * *

It pains him that his venture into serious literature is born from Kate's death.

He begins writing the story because it's swirling in his mind, a mix of the words and his grief eating him alive and making it painful to continue existing. He spends weeks trying to resist, trying to write a multitude of stories beyond the one that his mind and his heart wants him to tell.

But when he gives in, when he's pounding his mourning and broken heart out on the keyboard of his laptop, Castle finds that he can breath. He can think, he can function, he can live day to day in a world without Kate Beckett.

It takes him two months to finish the entire thing. It's another seven before he can bring himself to read it, much less consider handing it over to another person.

In that seven months he works on another book, his mind latching onto the idea of Bex Tyler in the middle of the night and absolutely refusing to let the precocious kid detective go.

His sassy creation is a hit, with her one-liners and big heart. Thousands of little girls, and even a few boys, writing him to tell him how much they love Bex and her sidekick Roy. They make him smile, they make him enjoy his life again. He goes on a three-month book tour around the United States and Europe, hugging kids, signing books and making himself take the time to enjoy parts of the world that he has, for so long, neglected.

It's when he returns that he finally gives the book to Gina, and she calls him the same night to inform him that she'll publish his book or get fired trying.

They've already hung up when he realizes that she had been crying while they talked.

* * *

_'The waves roll in steadily with the tide, the foam lapping at my ankles as I watch the sun set in the distance. The peace I find while standing on the shore is no accident. The ocean has always soothed me, the knowledge that it continues to ebb and flow in spite of whatever else might happen in the world. The tide comes in, it rolls away and the water remains even while everything else has gone. _

_How many years I have remaining on the earth is not something I know. It's not something that I think I should know. I no longer ache for death, to join Elizabeth under the ground to sleep in silence. I am caught in the balance of death and life, my lungs breathing air and my feet making imprints into the sand, but not living. I have accepted that she is gone, that I'll never experience the sparkling of her eyes when she was happy, taste her mouth as she leans in for a kiss except, perhaps, in my dreams. But that acceptance has not brought the desire to live my life with the fullness and richness that I had with her. _

_That will come in time, though always be dimmed by her absence. I know without any doubt that I'll never marry again, never commit myself to another human being. She is far too embedded into my soul for that. And though I'm sure Elizabeth would disapprove, I also know she would understand. _

_The chill in the air surprises me as the last rays of the sun sink below the horizon, the water's touch having turned my toes to ice. It's a moment of silence longer, a moment to remember, to honor, and to love before I back away from the waves. I feel connected to her here, in a place where we so often found a hour or two of happiness. Each afternoon when I turn to return home, the goodbye shatters a bit of myself but my inevitable return affords a peace that I know I cannot go without. _

_The house is warm. Free from the chill of the oncoming autumn air, and I settle inside easily. My routine never varying by much, I eat, I bathe, I read or watch television. I continue to exist, and each day the ache in my heart lessens a little more. Each day is alternately a step closer to being reunited with Elizabeth, while also teaching me to live with the reminder of her brilliance and love with which she infused my life. _

_Each night, each day, each minute, I remain thankful for her. And that will never alter.' _

The last passage in his book is the one that he reads at the only signing he gives. The room is bursting with people as he reads, nothing but the occasional sniff or the clearing of a throat to interrupt the words as they flow from his mouth.

He picked it because it offers such a concise look into the heart of the novel, but also because its a section that he knows he can manage without his voice betraying any emotion. There are other pages that he cannot bear to touch, sentences and words that rub him raw and leave him aching with how much it still hurts. Reminds him of how much he desperately misses Kate.

Those sections are always the 'what ifs', the things that will keep him up a night while he wonders about where they would be now. Would they have children by now? Would he spend his days wrapped in sticky hugs and bright smiles? Only visiting the precinct for a lunch date? He knows they'd be married by now - that Kate never would have settled for an engagement longer than a year.

And he tries not to wonder. He tries to accept the hand that life dealt him. To put his undivided attention on his daughter, his mother, and his friends. He writes more than he ever has, pages of nonsense that will never see the light of day, but that helps him work through his day to day life.

Occasionally he offers help to the boys, though never inside the walls of the Twelfth. They come to him, either visiting the loft or a diner. He babysits the Ryan's two children, teases Alexis about her boyfriend Taylor.

It's a full life. A life that he is proud of managing.

* * *

_'In Memoriam_' dwarfs anything that Derrick Storm, Nikki Heat or Bex Tyler have ever done. He wins multiple awards, he receives piles of mail from readers who detail how the book helped them through a loss. The interview requests and invitations to speak to groups of people come daily. Both Paula and Gina urge him to follow through with some of them.

He never does.

He never even gives an interview about the book - just the one reading and signing. Just a brief talk full of vague references to the event that altered his life and gave him the idea. He never openly acknowledges that the book is about Kate.

But it's all over the book. Her essence and fire is evident in every sentence and paragraph. The deceased wife within the books pages might be named Elizabeth, but she is Katherine Beckett with her no nonsense attitude and bright grins. Her long legs and teasing nature. The quiet way in which she loves the unnamed narrator, the suddenness of her death within the first twenty pages.

It's all very difficult after that - a man who has lost his grip on a world without his life. A man drowning in grief and aching for the life he never had. And he dreams to cope, he creates and modifies and imagines children. A girl with soft brown curls, a boy with big green eyes. A world where she never leaves him, where the exist in safety and happiness and love.

In others he has another daughter, this bright and electric thing which helps him cope. She moves home to attend to her half-siblings. In others, it's his wife's parents whole and united in the loss of their child.

All things that could have been possible if so many other things had been different.

* * *

Alexis is twenty-six when she get married. A day shy of twenty-eight when she invites him for dinner and announces that he's going to be a grandfather.

And he's so proud of his kid, of the way she dedicates herself to her job with the District Attorney's office, of her dedication to be a wife to her husband. She's the best thing he's ever done in the world.

When she gives birth to a girl almost eight months later, they all end up crying in the hospital room. It's all six of their family together - his mother and Jim with a few more gray hairs and lines on their faces - each of them with eyes only for the tiny red-headed thing in Alexis arms.

"We had thought we'd name her Anna," his daughter says quietly, hesitant eyes cutting up from her own child to gaze at him and Jim in turn.

And Castle knows what comes next, steels himself for the word before it leaves her mouth, but he still isn't prepared for it.

"Anna Katherine," Alexis whispers, "If that's okay."

He hears Jim agree, of his mother's soft sigh as she pats the older man on the shoulder. But he's moving before he can think, gently wrapping his kid into his arms and kissing her cheek while Taylor Roberts beams at the both of them, "She'd love that. Just like I love you."

He gets to hold her after he's released Alexis, his son-in-law shifting the baby's weight easily into his arms. Anna's eyes are bright blue like the Castle's, not the dark brown of her father, and he grins at that, leaning down brush his mouth against her downy head.

"Hello Anna Kate," he whispers, "Let me tell you a story about your Grandma Katherine…."


	12. Chapter 9 Alternate

_Author's Note: And here we are, the last chapter. Thanks to everyone who has read/reviewed/followed/and favorited this story. It's got over 11,000 views which is far more than I ever expected for a random idea that wouldn't go away. I've enjoyed writing it, and hope that you'll continue to read my stuff when it pops up. _

* * *

Jerry Tyson is put to death by the state of Florida the week before Thanksgiving.

Surprisingly, his death doesn't offer the comfort that Castle had expected and he spends the day on the sofa with his son, the warmth and smell of his six month old so familiar that they both drift off into an afternoon nap until the slam of the front door jerks him out of it.

Jackson's cry is loud and long, enough to give Alexis pause as she crosses the room with her arms full of books. "I'm so sorry, dad," she says with a cringe as Castle jumps to action, lightly rocking and shushing the infant. It's a bottle of milk and a diaper change later before he's fully satisfied, but his daughter still wears a pained expression like she's set off a bomb while she stares down her pile of books.

He's noticed the tiles. All variations of criminal law and procedure, all things which Alexis has occasionally mentioned in the past year or so though she's never actively announced that she wants to attend law school. But he hasn't missed the long conversations she has with Jim or Kate, the way that her eyes light up when the precinct enters into a conversation and she gets the opportunity to quiz his wife on the ins and outs of forging deals and determining sentences for the criminals that she places into prison.

Several minutes pass in relative silence, Jack's quiet snuffles as he eases back into sleep the only noise in the room until her clear voice speaks up, "Dad, I applied to take the L-Stat and I want to go to Harvard," the words rush from Alexis so quickly that he almost has trouble understanding her though he smiles when her meaning catches on.

"And you think I'm going to say no?" he asks, sinking into the chair opposite of her and swapping Jack to his other shoulder, "Alexis, I think you'd be a brilliant lawyer."

"No its not that - " she replies immediately, words halting while she bites her lip in a move so reminiscent of Kate that he wants to laugh. Apparently they are rubbing off on one another, "I just feel guilty for wanting to leave you," she admits after a beat, her head falling into her hands as she sighs. "It's not that different from when I was working towards undergraduate work. Except now there's Kate and Jack and I hate feeling that I'm going to miss so much if I move away."

Castle does laugh then, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder, "You do know that you've got another full year of Columba before any of this even matters, don't you? Not that I don't applaud your planning and thinking ahead, but its a little early to be agonizing over leaving your brother."

"But its what I want to do, dad. I want to study law and so something that makes a difference. I just don't want you or Kate to think that I don't care about Jackson or being involved in his life," she insists, her voice carrying the desperate edge that if so often held when she was young and desperate to make him understand.

"I would never think that, and neither would Kate. I know this isn't a conventional family, that its weird for you to be so much older than Jack but it doesn't matter where you are Alexis, if you go to Harvard or move to Japan, he's going to know you love him," he says gently, dropping a kiss to the crown of his eldest's head as he stands and passes a sleeping baby boy to her, "Now you hold him while I get started on dinner."

* * *

Alexis is her in second year at Harvard Law when Kate learns she's pregnant again.

It's over the Thanksgiving break that Castle's oldest daughter learns the most surprising news of all - she's gaining a set of siblings. Come April, the Castle family will consist of herself, Jack and another boy and girl of whom her dad has already taken to petitioning Kate to name Luke and Leia.

It doesn't work, of course, though Kate does concede to letting Castle pick the middle names for the newest, and likely final, members of their family.

When he announces that he's picked Johanna as a middle name over Christmas, both Kate and Alexis start crying. It's also that same day when Alexis meets the newest detective at the Twelfth Precinct, Taylor Roberts.

And it makes no sense at all how attracted she is to the guy who has been assigned to the desk between Kate and Kevin Ryan, but when he asks her to go get a drink she immediately accepts. Three days later, he kisses her when he drops her off at her dad's apartment once they've finished with their coffee date.

Even once she's back in Boston and neck deep in case studies and class work, Taylor stays on her mind and a steady presence via text messages and phone calls. He even surprises her by spending a weekend with her in the city, and she shows him around the campus. They eat lobster while overlooking the Boston Harbor, and she gives up a spring break trip to Paris to instead go home and spend the week in Manhattan.

They are very quiet with the relationship, if it can even been called that, with Alexis insisting to her father that its all very casual and friendly. It's Kate who knows better, with the woman being the one who sees Taylor's face light up whenever he gets a text from her or hears the way he talks about Alexis.

Kate knows they are going somewhere but she keeps it to herself and Taylor is always careful on the days that Castle trades his Mr. Mom uniform in for the familiarity of running down leads and tossing out theory.

He finds out how decidedly not casual the whole thing is when Kate goes into labor a full two months early.

Its terrifying as he waits for his mother and Alexis to arrive, Jack sitting quietly on his lap as nurses and doctors wander past. His three year old only asks if his mom will be okay, and Castle can barely manage to tell him that he hopes so before the threat of tears have him ducking his head to hide them. But Jack sees them anyway, his tiny arms folding around Castle's neck in a small hug that temporarily eases the fear clenching around his heart.

Hours later, long after the doctors have halted Kate's labor and placed her on bed rest while they pump her body full of steroids, he sees his oldest daughter and the detective talking. Their hands are laced together, heads bowed into one another until Alexis' red hair goes flying around her head as she laughs at something he tells her.

The look Taylor gives her while she laughs is the thing that does it, a pain slicing through his heart at the realization that someone else is slowly winning his baby girl over, because Castle knows that look very well. It's the same one that is so often on his face when he looks at Kate.

* * *

The twins enter the world two weeks later, screaming and red faced. And they are so small, so utterly fragile, that he flounders at first. Irrationally afraid that his large hands will somehow hurt them.

Of course they don't, he shows the same gentleness that he had for both Alexis and Jack as he holds the two babies. They both barely equal the weight of one child, each of them just touching the scales at three pounds. But they are perfect, twenty fingers and toes, heads of dark hair and bright blue eyes.

It's a short-lived moment for the four of them, Kate only able to brush her fingers against their fuzzy heads before doctors are wheeling them away for extra tests. There are still so many questions about the things they can't see, so many worries for two babies who have entered the world earlier than they should have.

Kate spends the first night in a haze of painkillers, the stitches from her incision burning sharp against her skin and reminding her of her last surgery. It's only the warm weight of Castle's hand enclosing her own that keeps her from a panic attack when she wakes in the middle of the night with the pain in her abdomen momentarily replaced by searing heat in her chest from a sniper's bullet.

He talks her out of it, reminding her that it was years ago and this trip and this surgery are for a very different reason - that they have two babies who are so worth the pain and anxiety of the last two weeks. And its completely true, she realizes as much when their small faces pop into her mind and her body finally relaxes back into sleep.

* * *

"Charlotte."

"All I can think of is the spider."

"Castle!"

The snap of his last name draws him out of his slight trance and Castle suddenly sits upright, glancing around the hospital room before meeting Kate's eyes. His wife is glaring at him from her bed, holding their little girl as she nurses. It's something that she is trying for the first time as her attempts with Jackson never took, and it also marks a first for Castle as Meredith had never even considered it for Alexis.

He decides there is something profoundly beautiful about it with a slight smile before his attention moves back towards Kate.

"I'm sorry but Charlotte is - I mean, its either a spider or that brunette from Sex and The City. Neither are options that I want my daughter aligned with," he explains, frowning when Kate rolls her eyes at him.

"I was thinking more Bronte than Goldenblatt," she answered, her nose wrinkling slightly as the baby squirms against her chest and releases with a soft 'pop'. "But okay, fine, what have you got? And do not say Leia."

"Katniss," he replies easily, chuckling at the responding glare and biting down on the urge to toss out Nikki.

As much as Kate loves him, he's not sure he'd survive that one. But that same day, she tosses out Jameson for their boy and he almost chokes on his coffee.

* * *

The final Nikki Heat book hits shelves a week before Halloween - four months before the twins fourth birthday.

It's a surprisingly quiet occasion, with the only real marking of the day being a delivery of the first printed edition to the loft.

It's one of the few times where things are going smoothly and Kate doesn't have to apologize to the delivery man for the screaming and wailing from one of her children. Miraculously, all three of them are huddled on the couch with Castle as he reads them a story. She can see Jack and Ethan losing a steady battle with sleep while Charlotte remains a live wire, twitching and flicking her fingers and toes.

Her daughter won't sleep, not with her brothers piled in beside her. She'll wait until the story finishes and then settle herself in a different chair.

And it always makes Kate smile, the idea of how independent her little girl is even at three years old.

She takes advantage of the silence, placing the package from Black Pawn on the middle of the counter so it is out of the reach of the six curious hands that live with them, and turns her attention back towards the fairy wings that Lettie will wear for Halloween. The wings which she snapped the elastic binding on the second day they brought them home and now require Kate to sew back on.

She's almost finished when the plane of Castle's chest crowds against her back, his ams encircling her waist a beat later, "Hello, Mrs. Castle," he whispers against her ear, and she laughs as he grazes his teeth against the tender skin below her ear, "You should wear those, you'd look hot."

Kate rolls her eyes because she knows its the reaction that he wants, swatting his hand from sliding underneath the hem of her t-shirt after she's tied off the thread and cut the excess off. "I'm just going to remind you that your child plays with these, that they are her very favorite thing in the world until at least next Tuesday," she tells him when she's managed to wiggle out of his grip in order to return the scissors and other supplies to their rightful home.

The face that he makes is the exact one that she expects, one of utter distaste, but it doesn't stop her from laughing, though it the smile dims somewhat when Castle eyes the package and the familiar handwriting of Gina.

And its serious for a moment, the air around the two of them thick with apprehension as he gingerly rips open the brown wrapping and breaks the taped seal of the box, "Do you think I did the right thing?" he asks, fingers hovering against the top of the box, his eyes so desperate for the truth.

"Castle….." Kate sighs, rounding the corner of the counter and drawing him against her body, "Nikki's time is done. You've told her story. She's solved her big mystery, she's found her peace. She had nothing left to give you - you told me that about three days after you started writing the book. You knew this was it for her, so don't doubt it. It's the right thing. It's time for the next great adventure."

There's a moment where he looks ready to protest, where his mouth opens as his eyebrows draw together, but he pauses before the sound escapes his throat. Instead, he kisses her, the contact light enough to keep them both in check but dripping with his unspoken thank you. Not just for her words to him a moment before, but for the million other things that he is grateful for - her love and their children first among them.

Castle rests against her for a while longer, seeming to gather strength from her embrace before he opens the box. But once the flaps have been lifted up, he's pressing the book in her hands.

She hasn't seen anything but the cover, hasn't read anything but the title _'Holding Heat'_, but Kate takes it from him anyway. Years of being together allowing her to read what he wants her to do as she turns the page.

It's just one of many dedications he has given to her over the years - its not even the first for Jack, or the twins, but the tears are immediate in her eyes. "Oh, Castle," she gasps, blinking against the moisture as it continues to build and blurs the words.

But they are already committed to memory, burning bright against the back of her eyelids as he hugs her to him, murmuring into her hair.

_"To Jack, Lettie, EJ and Alexis - the lights of my life, the bringers of happiness, and my greatest accomplishments in this world. And to KC, because 'Always' is the best word of them all, and its what I have with you."_

* * *

_A/N: To answer a few lingering questions, Alexis does marry Taylor {deleted scene}. The kids full names are Jackson Beckett Castle, Charlotte Johanna Castle, and Ethan James Castle. Charlotte is called Lettie or CC, Ethan is EJ, Jackson is Jack. Both Jackson and Ethan are named after Castle and Beckett's dads (Jim being short for James in my mind)._


End file.
